Always
by politiksandprose
Summary: "You look awful" he says, a half smile playing on his lips. His eyes soft, the warmth I'd missed for so long back. His voice tender and most importantly, his. "You're ... you" I say breathlessly. Katniss/Peeta one-shot.


Title: _**Always**_.

**A/N: Not only have I not written anything in a very long time, but this is also my first Hunger Games fic. It's a one shot alternative ending/addition to the last chapter of Mockingjay because I felt a bit robbed of Peeniss scenes. Enjoy =)**

**Disclaimer: The characters do _not_ belong to me.**

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><p>"Where are they?" I whisper.<p>

I look outside of the window, my eyes fixated on Peeta's house. I know Gale, and I know I don't have to worry about him. He can figure out how to survive in the roughest of terrains. It's Peeta whose safety I worry for. It's almost like an instinct now, to try to protect Peeta. And for him to protect me.

"It's time you pulled your head out of your ass and let yourself how you really feel. The other one didn't stand a chance." Haymitch's voice breaks through my muffled thoughts, not answering my question.

Those are his parting words as he drops me to my house in twelve, walking away, his own poison clinking in his bag with each step.

He does it again, says something that he knows will nag at me, the ring of truth around his words seeming more and more true each time I repeat them. It takes me back to all those years ago, right after the first Hunger Games. Right before I'd gone on stage at District 11 with Peeta. "_You could do a lot worse" _Haymitch had said to me then. And I had realized the truth in those words minutes later when he'd done the unthinkable; when he'd helped Rue's and Thresh's families in the most perfect way.

I realize the truth in Haymitch's words for a second time when I open my door, weeks after my mentor's words have had time to settle in and be analyzed in my own twisted, convoluted mind.

I run to the front door, pulling it open, the shoveling from my nightmare getting louder and louder with each step. But instead of the faces of those whose deaths I was responsible for, I'm greeted by a familiar face. A comforting face. At least, it used to be.

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><p>"You look awful" he says, a half smile playing on his lips. His eyes soft, the warmth I'd missed for so long back. His voice tender and most importantly, <em>his<em>.

"You're ... you" I say breathlessly.  
>"I am ... they found a way to fix me. Your mom helped. So did Prim, actually. The tracker jacker reversal. It worked" He says.<p>

My eyes take him in; he looks good. Healthy. Not as big or strong as before but not as weak as he'd looked when I saw him last. Much better than me, I'm positive.

"I went to the woods this morning to get these." He says, shifting my gaze towards the bushes he's gathered in the wheelbarrow sitting next to him.

Confusion, and I'm sure a bit of rage clouds my eyes as I register the word _rose_ in my head. I'm about to yell vicious things at the mutt in front of me when his voice breaks through again.

"They're Primrose bushes. I thought we could plant them around the house. For her."

Of course, _primrose._ The plant after which my sister was named.

I nod in assent because I'm too unsure of whether or not my lips can form any comprehendible words at the moment. I feel his eyes trained on me, a look of concern etched on his face. He slowly brings his hand near my face, resting it on my cheek.

"Katniss…" He breathes, and it comes out almost like a question.

I break down and wrap my arms around him, letting the tears that I've held captive for so long finally free.

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><p>He leads me back into the house, sits me down on the couch as I try to comprehend that not only is Peeta alive, but he's back. <em>My<em> Peeta is back and that terrifying mutt that took over him once will never return. A jolt of relief courses through my tired body and I feel myself let out a small smile.

He comes back a few minutes later, only to lead me to the bathtub which I'm surprised to see is filled to the top with steaming water and foamy bubbles.  
>"Believe me when I say you need this." He says, touching my cheek before stepping out of the bathroom, leaving me to myself once more. I slowly strip out of the clothes I've been wearing since I arrived at twelve, and they stick to my body from the sweat and dirt and bits of dried blood.<p>

I step into the tub and feel my body relax at once. I attempt to run my hand through my hair but feel hard clumps matted to my scalp and forehead instead. I slowly slip my head underwater, feeling my hair soften and detangle underwater. I poke my head out only when I'm desperate for air and hear Peeta knock.  
>"Come in" I say. My voice sounds hoarse and unfamiliar.<br>He walks in, fresh clothes in one hand, a comb in another.

I let my body sink down further in the tub, feel myself completely covered under the bed of foam. Despite everything we've been through, nakedness still makes uncomfortable.

He sits on the ledge of the tub, running his fingers across my forehead. Slowly, he divides my hair into sections, combing the knots that have formed over the course of the past few weeks. It takes him a full thirty minutes, and in the end he braids it down my back. My signature style.

We sit quietly after that, one hand of his resting on my bare shoulder, the other clutching mine.  
>He breaks the silence after a while, and the tone of his voice forces me to turn my face to him.<br>For a second, I'm worried. Worried that the him I just saw was temporary, that he isn't fixed. But the tears in his eyes transform my worry into confusion at once.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss." He draws slowly, his breathing slow and heavy.

I look up and I'm sure the confusion is etched in my face because he continues.

"I'm so, so sorry for the awful things I said to you before. I'm sorry for not believing you, for not believing that you truly cared about me. I'm sorry for becoming that monster and for killing Mitchell.." His voice breaks and I clutch his hand even tighter, using my free hand to trace his face.

Suddenly, I remember how unfair I had been to Peeta when he first was rescued from the Capitol. How I had blamed him for his actions that I knew he wasn't responsible for. This is my time to make up for that.

"No one blames you for that, Peeta." I say, my own voice ragged. "_I_ don't blame you."  
>"But I do, Katniss. Sometimes I wake up from nightmares that seem <em>so<em> real; we're back at the capitol, and I'm that mutt again who tries to kill you but Mitchell isn't there to protect and I succeed in trying to kill you and that-"  
>"But you didn't kill me. That wasn't even you, Peeta. Yes, that was your body but it wasn't you. Not your eyes, your voice ... and certainly not your heart."<p>

I can tell he doesn't believe me, doesn't feel quite relieved but it's all I can do to help him right now.  
>He's quiet for a second, his face hard, his eyes tortured and his fingers still outlining my face when I remember something.<p>

"So how about that kiss" I whisper, hoping he remembers the memory that has my lips twisting in an upward fashion. Smiling feels so weird now, but it's apparent from his smile that he does and he drops his lips to my forehead.

I think back to that day, sitting in the arena near the water, tending to Peeta's wounds. I remember fearing for his life, not knowing how to heal the gash in his leg that I was ultimately responsible for.  
>That day in the arena, I had helped Peeta heal his physical wounds. And today, almost two years later, here we sat, healing each other's emotional wounds.<p>

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><p>Greasy Sae comes by later and she looks genuinely happy to see Peeta, who in the past few hours has made the house smell like the inside of a bakery. He gives Greasy Sae a loaf of bread, telling her he can take care of me now.<p>

She looks at me approvingly; probably just happy to see me showered and changed. She picks up her bread and the handful of cookies Peeta's set aside for her in a tin can and leaves.

Peeta comes and sits next to me by the fireplace, where I've busied myself burning my old clothes.

"Gale's doing well. He's got a job up in District 2, I heard." He says quietly, as he spoonfeeds me hot soup that he's just made.

I can feel Peeta's gaze on me as I try to figure out how I feel. I'm waiting for a hint of resentment, guilt, anger, longing … anything, really, to course through my body. But in the end, I think all I feel is relief. Relief that he's okay. Relief that I'm not forced to pick Peeta over him.

I look at Peeta and simply whisper, "good." Hoping I don't have to elaborate on my feelings about that.

I think Peeta understands anyway because he kisses me in between my eyes after feeding me another spoonful of soup.

We move up to the plush couch after we're done eating, and I curl my feet under me, resting my head on Peeta's shoulder. After all that's happened, the crook between his neck and shoulder feels like my tiny own personal bit of home. I feel his head lean on mine, and his lips graze the top of my head.

I think back to that day before the Quarter Quell, when the two of us spent our day on the roof eating our small picnic, content to be embraced in each other's arms as we are now. I remember him telling me he wished everything could just freeze in that moment, so he could live in it forever.

This. This is the moment I wish I could freeze myself in forever. Because yes, awful things have happened to the both of us, and we'll never be the same again. But somehow, having him here gives me hope that I _will_ go on, I _will_ continue tolive. The same way he gave me hope all those years ago when he gave me the burnt bread.

I tell him that, and he tightens his grip around me.

I suddenly wish I had a dandelion.

I'm not sure when, I but I doze off on Peeta's arm. Despite not having done too much, the day has taken its toll on me.

I wake up when he's carrying me to my bed. As he lays me down on my bed, I notice he's also changed the sheets.

He pulls the blanket over me, bringing it up to my chin.

"Goodnight, Katniss." He says in a hushed tone near my ear, his breath tickling my ears.

He's about to leave when I grab his arm, pulling him down closer to me. I bring my lips closer to his slowly. Experimentally, almost.

And that's when I feel it. The warm, delicious stirring in my chest. The hunger for another kiss. For a whole bunch of others.

I kiss him once more, not letting go of his hand.

"Stay with me?" I say.

He pushes the hair off of my forehead and slips under the blanket with me, his arms warm around me.

"Always." He says.

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><p><strong>AN:Too cheesy? As always, reviews are much, much appreciated! Feedback is always awesome!**

**edit: the typos in here were killing me so I corrected the ones I caught - if you see any, please let me know :)**


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